


Cleansing

by Windblade



Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One), Transformers - All Media Types, Transformers Generation One
Genre: Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-02
Updated: 2014-09-02
Packaged: 2018-02-15 20:57:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,160
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2243262
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Windblade/pseuds/Windblade
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Arcee can't exactly bathe herself with her injured ankle. Companion piece to Lucky Three.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Cleansing

She shifted her position, carefully rolling onto her side and sitting up with her arms supporting her upper body weight. A heavy sigh left her vents. The femme was still incapacitated after the battle that left her ankle in shatters, Ratchet absolutely refusing to let her walk around the medical bay. It wasn’t as though her leg would go weak from misuse, he had said, but a matter of keeping pressure completely off the joint. Being confined to a berth and doing practically nothing was taxing on her nerves. Springer’s arm had healed over and was now just a silver weld line against the green of his armor. The cut had been deep, but at least it was a clean slash and didn’t shatter when it hit. Hot Rod’s back still twinged a bit, and the mech could be heard complaining about it whenever Ratchet was in the general vicinity. Arcee suspected he was just doing that to irritate the medic. And, of course, it worked. As it was, she was the only one of her friends to still be interred at the medical ward. They made it a point to come see her whenever their schedules allowed.

Moving her weight from her arms and using it to push herself back to lean against the wall, Arcee was just about to work up the nerve to place her uninjured pede on the ground when Ratchet’s fussing tone came in nearly an instant, causing the femme to freeze on instinct, "Don’t you even _process_ the thought of leaving your berth! It’s only been a few cycles since I replaced those cords! I will _not_ do it again!" She was sure he had some sort of alarm system programmed into his processors; his timing was legendary among them. Venting in defeat, she was about to push herself back when her audio receptors caught the unmistakable drawl of Springer coming to her rescue.

"Come on, Ratchet, loosen up. She’s gotta do something. Why not let Roddy and I take her to the wash racks? She hasn’t been able to clean herself since we came back. That’s not really good for her health, now is it?" As Ratchet was opening his mouth to no doubt find some reason why that wouldn’t be a good idea, Hot Rod cut in with a peek around Springer’s arm.

"Yeah, it’ll help her feel better. Don’t worry, we won’t let anything happen to her. You know that." The medic did know that, but that didn’t stop the inkling of worry that nagged in his thoughts. Logically, a shower would be good for her; there was no doubt dirt and debris had gotten caught between the delicate plating and joints over her frame. He finally assented after that thought, "Fine. But I want her back here _immediately_ after you’re done. Don’t be gone long, and don’t let her put pressure on that ankle. Come straight back here if anything happens."

"We would never let anything happen to her!" Hot Rod sounded almost offended at the thought, while Springer replied with a calmer, "Yeah, yeah, I know." Ratchet simply grunted, optics narrowed in a glare. His gaze was like a hawk as he watched over the three. Springer bending down closer to the berth so Arcee wouldn’t have to strain up to reach him. Her arms wrapped themselves around his neck while his arms slid underneath her bottom. He wrapped her legs around his hips, careful not to bump against her injured ankle. "You ready?" At her nod, he slowly stood back up with her held against his chest. Hot Rod waited with his servos out just in case she slipped.

After being watched over by Ratchet, they made their way down the hall and to the wash racks where, thankfully, no one else was. Springer lumbered to a stall while Hot Rod moved to turn the shower on. Arcee was about to let her arms slip from around the larger mech’s neck when he surprised her by lowering himself down to sit on the tiled floor, gently situating her so she sat sideways on his lap. Springer’s large shoulders took most of the shower spray and allowed a gentler stream to flow over her, keeping direct contact away from her ankle. Hot Rod sat down at the green mech’s knees, handing the other a cleaning cloth and keeping one for himself. He wet the cloth with warm water from the shower, lathering a foaming cleanser onto it before grabbing Arcee’s arm and gently scrubbing over her dirty armor.

Springer worked over her shoulders with his cloth, his fingers massaging the tense cables of her neck and upper back. Her helm leaned forward with a soft moan, dainty frame nearly melting at the two pairs of hands roving over her plating. Hot Rod slid the cloth lower until he reached the curve of her waist, his finger tips kneading the smooth metal there. A low chuckle fell from his lips as her forehead touched his chest, her own servos coming up to hold onto his shoulders. Springer ever so slowly reached around until his right servo cradled her chest plate, gently pushing her back against his broad chest. His left one found it’s way down to her hip, grasping on and rubbing circles there with his thumb.

Hot Rod moved from her waist, trailing his finger tips down to her thighs and nearly smirking at the shudder he could feel coming from her at the action. She leaned back into Springer, his arm coming back up to wrap around her slim shoulders. After tantalizing her body with his fingers, Hot Rod looked up with a grin, sitting back on his knees to lean forward and press a quick but sweet kiss to Arcee’s lips. She would’ve grabbed him and pulled him closer had he not stood up with a soft laugh.

"Not while you’re injured, ‘Cee. As soon as your ankle can take the pressure, we’ll do it." His tone was teasing, amplified by the cheeky wink he sent her. Azure optics blinked in surprise, her helm turning to the side with a scoff leaving her lips after. She could feel the heat in her face plates. The low chuckle from the mech she was resting against didn’t help either.

"He’s right though; we don’t want to take that chance. Just be patient." After turning the shower off, she was gathered up into flame painted arms this time around and held tenderly against a warm chassis. Hot Rod took note of her almost pout and laughed with delight, nuzzling her cheek with his nose and smiling in silly triumph when he saw the smile pulling at her lips. He whispered mischievously in her audio receptor.

"I can’t wait either. Just _imagining_ you between us…"

He took great joy in the indignant yelp and deep laugh from his companions, mixed with his own mischievous snickers.

That smack had been worth it.


End file.
